


20-Minute Mankai: A3 Oneshot Collection

by UsaChan1997



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: 20-Minute Mankai, Action, Akigumi, Comedy, Drama, F/M, Fuyugumi, Harugumi, M/M, Natsugumi, Romance, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22773649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UsaChan1997/pseuds/UsaChan1997
Summary: A collection of my A3! oneshots from the 20-Minute Mankai Challenge on Wattpad with cherryluna. For each idea/prompt, the initial writing period is 20 minutes, after which the stories are finished and refined.
Relationships: Furuichi Sakyou/Tachibana Izumi, Fushimi Omi/Tachibana Izumi, Hyoudou Juuza/Everyone, Ikaruga Misumi/Tachibana Izumi, Nanao Taichi/Fan, Tachibana Izumi/Usui Masumi, Tsukioka Tsumugi/Reader
Comments: 27
Kudos: 178





	1. Children at Heart (Omi Fushimi/Izumi Tachibana)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Fluff/Confession  
> Pairing: Izumi/Omi  
> Genre: Drama

“That’s the last of the blankets,” Izumi sighed happily, setting the freshly done laundry on the lounge’s sofa. “Thanks for your help, Omi.”

“Anytime.” Omi gave her a boyish smile, the one that shone in his amber eyes and turned her insides gooey. Now would be the time that the two would normally part ways, tending to whatever chores were leftover before the highschoolers got home. But recently, it was becoming harder and harder to say goodbye, even briefly. Izumi found herself grasping for excuses to stay by his side.

They both stared at the monstrous pile of blankets and sheets in silence for a moment. Then, simultaneously, their eyes locked and their faces lit up. “Blanket fort?” Omi asked.

“Blanket fort.” Izumi confirmed.

“Pull it a bit tighter,” Omi instructed, billowing out the crocheted throw to fully cover one of the dining-room chairs. “I have some duct tape that we can fasten it with.” Izumi watched him work, trying not to fixate on his hands, on the biceps bulging under his rolled-up flannel, on the smug, twinkling eyes that kept finding her own. 

“Omi, are we kids?” Izumi giggled, standing on her tippy-toes so he could tape the corner of her top-sheet to the wall. 

He reached over her head, so close, his hand brushing hers as he smoothed the fabric down. She caught the scent of his shampoo, carnation and honey tickling her nose as he answered. “At heart? Always.”

When their masterpiece was finished, the two crawled inside, Omi hunched over slightly so his head didn’t brush the top of the fort. They sat side-by-side, giddy grins glued on their faces. “Think we should move in here, now?” Izumi raised an eyebrow. “I wonder if we could smuggle in some curry.”

That earned a hearty chuckle from Omi. “Curry, even now?” He shook his head, his arm easily falling around her slim shoulders and drawing her close. “But, then again, that’s one of the things I love about you.”

Izumi’s face went beet-red. “L-Love?” She stammered, looking up at him in wonder. Omi didn’t answer at first, his cheeks dusted rosy. But he also didn’t deny it or brush it off like he had in the past.

“Yeah.”

【❀】

For a moment, they both let that beautiful sentiment hang in the air, at once calming and thrilling. Izumi was rendered speechless, wondering how on earth she had been so lucky to meet such a man. To fall for him and find out that her feelings were mutual.

Mutual.

Izumi realized she needed to convey that to Omi. She flushed, noting the tension in his shoulders and the corners of his mouth quirking downward. _Shit, he thinks I’m hesitating._ She realized.

Unable to summon the right words, Izumi let her actions speak for her. She leaned close, one hand reaching for his sleeve and the other finding his cheek. Gentle at first, she kissed his frown away, a swell of warmth building in her chest as she felt his smile forming against her lips. As the kiss deepened, he pulled her into his lap, large palm stroking the small of her back. Heartbeats thundered. Hands began to wander.

“I love you, too, Omi.” Izumi breathed between searing kisses, earning a tight squeeze within the circle of his embrace.

“Izumi.” Between the huskiness of his voice and him boldly calling her name, Izumi was in danger of melting entirely.

“We’re baaaack!~”

The two froze at the sound of the lounge door swinging open. A chorus of cheerful voices filled the air, and the couple lurched apart before realizing that they were hidden from sight. Izumi slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, and Omi combed his fingers through her disheveled hair, unable to suppress his own grin.

“Omi? Izumi? Are you guys here?” Sakuya called.

In answer, Omi popped his head out of the entry flap. “Yep. Sorry, the Director and I got a little carried away making… this.” he gestured to their creation. “I’ll whip up some snacks.”

“A blanket fort??” Taichi’s eyes sparkled.

Tenma scoffed. “How old are you two?”

“Still very young at heart!” Izumi chirped, popping into view and sticking out her tongue at the gaggle of incredulous boys.

“Don’t even pretend you wouldn’t want a secret base like that, Ten-chan.” Taichi shoved Tenma’s shoulder good-naturedly.

“Kantoku.” Izumi flinched at the coldness in Masumi’s tone. “Don’t tell me you were alone in there with him?”

Izumi laughed nervously, hand flying to the back of her neck. “Um, well--”

“Who wants snacks?” Omi interrupted, brandishing a plate of pastries. Attention diverted. At least, for now.

_scene <3_


	2. The Director and The Boss (Sakyo Furuichi/Izumi Tachibana)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakyo and Izumi get a taste of what it's like to switch roles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Swapping/Chaotic  
> Pairing: Sakyo/Izumi  
> Genre: Comedy
> 
> Fun fact, this was initially going to contain a serious brawl, and then it became jokes. Also, I love Sakyo and his moles.

“What’s so hard about your life, huh? I babysit those brats every day and you expect me to have sympathy for you when rehearsal is a complete disaster?” The bitter words spilled out before Sakyo could stop himself, the culmination of a week’s worth of passive-aggression.

“You don’t know half of what I go through to keep this place afloat, Money-Grubbing Yakuza! You’re so blinded by the bottom line, I wish you could feel a modicum of the stress and hard work that comes with being director!” Izumi fired back, anger rolling off her in waves.

And that’s how Sakyo ended up supervising the Summer Troupe’s latest rehearsal as acting director.

“Sakyo-- I mean, Kantoku-san!” Kazunari piped up. “I need help with my character-work, Yuzo-san said it’s too shallow--”

“Shallow, you? Who would have guessed,” Yuki muttered. “More importantly, Kantoku-san, I need your approval for the new costumes. Also, we need to set points for the quick-changes, since I’ll be offstage for the first and third ones--”

“Kantoku-san, Kantoku-san!” Misumi was practically bouncing off the walls. “I can’t practice anymore until I’m powered up with onigiri!”

“Can it, Trianglian, and sit your ass down!” Tenma roared. “Kantoku, get this alien to focus up--”

“U-Um, Kantoku…” Muku murmured helplessly, his voice barely audible over the maelstrom of wild boys. “Do you think we could discuss my character’s motivation--?”

“Agh! Shuddup, all of you!” Sakyo bellowed. “One at a time, one at a time!”

~~

“So, you’re, uh--”

“The boss.” Izumi did her best yakuza impression as her eyes bored into Sakoda’s confused expression. “That means today, you’re taking orders from me.”

“Right! Yes, ma’am!”

“Ah, really? So this little pipsqueak is gonna throw her weight around and tell us what to do?” One of Sakyo’s underlings got right up in Izumi’s face, 200 pounds of muscle and intimidation.

Emboldened by her new role and her adrenaline, Izumi grabbed the guy’s ear and yanked him down to her level. “Exactly, worm. And I don’t wanna hear any bitchin’. Shut up and follow me.”

Astonished, the guy stood, dumbfounded, as Izumi turned on her heel and whispered to Sakoda. “This isn’t so hard. My Sakyo impression’s pretty good, right?”

“Spot on, Boss. Now, here are all of the files relating to the finances of our territory.” He hefted a huge stack of paperwork and dumped it unceremoniously into Izumi’s arms. “Other than the Mankai Theater, the bakery on Seiro street is tanking, Oda from the bar refuses to make his payments, some punks have been making a scene near the arts district--”

【❀】

“Stop,” Izumi held up a hand, feeling a headache coming on from the information overload. “Let’s handle this one item at a time. This Oda guy, what’s his deal?”

~~

“Thank you very much!” The summer troupe boys bowed, and Sakyo’s shoulders slumped. He had probably lost a good five years of his life in one afternoon. _If I go bald because of these brats, I’m blaming Tachibana Izumi,_ he griped internally.

_Izumi._

Sakyo checked his phone. No calls. She was as stubborn as always. She couldn’t really be doing all his yakuza work, right? The thought of the smiling, clumsy director caught in the midst of that group of crass apes with zero sense among them, pushing her around with their grimy hands, filled Sakyo with a potent mix of fury and anxiety.

As if to punctuate his fears, his phone began to ring, and when he picked it up, Sakoda was practically screaming on the other end. “Boss, Boss! Get down to Oda’s bar quick! It’s the Little Lady, she needs your help!”

“Got it.” Sakyo didn’t waste any time. “Banri, Juza, Omi, Misumi!” He called, bursting breathlessly into the lounge. All the lively conversation between Mankai’s members went quiet at the urgency in his voice. “Come with me.”

“What’s wrong?” Omi frowned, his ladle freezing in midair.

“You look pale, Old Geezer.” Yuki couldn’t conceal his concern, even with his usual sharp tongue.

“Izumi is in danger. Come, now.”

The lounge exploded into chaos with that piece of information.

“I’m going--”

“Me, too!”

“I… I wanna save Kantoku-san!”

“You can’t go, middle-schoolers. A bar is no place for runts like you--”

“You wanna go?!”

“ENOUGH!” Sakyo did his best to intervene, to keep calm everyone down. But the power of the Izumi Protection Squad was too great, and in the end, a horde of sixteen knights-in-shining-armor thundered through the streets (to the terror of every passer-by) on a quest to rescue their damsel.

When they reached the bar in question, barging through the door with every intention of throwing down, the scene in front of them was… unexpected.

The place looked deserted. No customers, no staff. Only piles and piles of paperwork. Everything was quiet, but when he strained his ears, Sakyo could hear a faint whimper from the depths of The Pile.

“Revenue streams… tax returns… math… nooooo…”

“Izumi?” Sakyo called.

“Sakyo!” Abruptly, Izumi leapt up onto her tip-toes, her head barely peeking over the massive stack of documents. Her eyes were filled with tears, and before he knew it, she was throwing herself into his arms and squeezing him tight. 

“Izumi, you’re not in danger…? But Sakoda said...” Sakyo placed a tentative hand on her back, still trying to comprehend what in the hell was going on. Meanwhile, the rest of the boys filed in, taking turns checking on their beloved director.

“I AM in danger,” Izumi sniffed, sticking out her chin an looking into his eyes. “You have to help me, I need your cheap--erm--frugal sensibilities. Otherwise, I’ll never sort this out.”

“Hah. I see. So, you admit that being the Boss is a challenge?”

“Yes.”

“And I’m a genius?” Sakyo raised an eyebrow, smirk plastered on his smug face.

“You’re something.” Izumi muttered.

Slowly but surely, a real smile crept across Sakyo’s lips. “Okay. I’ll help.” Then, quieter, he added, “I must admit, being a director is no easy feat. You’re… doing well.”

_scene <3_


	3. Only A Kiss (Usui Masumi/Tachibana Izumi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Masumi has always loved her, and with every kiss, the feeling grows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Masumi/Izumi  
> Genre: Drama
> 
> We stan our loyal, blushing boy.

_It was only a kiss._

A slight, platonic brush of her lips on his cheek. Then, in that way of hers, she smiled at him. “Happy Birthday.”

To Masumi, her kiss was the blessing of a goddess. He had suspected from the moment he saw her that he was in love, but this small gesture was enough to confirm it. To send him into an emotional tailspin. The world around him seemed to shine, every vibrant color and pleasant scent and comforting feeling was amplified past all reason. He couldn’t stop smiling for days afterward.

“Can you calm down, Usui? Your face is creeping me out.” Yuki shot him a disgusted look at breakfast.

“I think it’s sooo romantic,” Muku cooed. “I envy Masumi-kun’s unwavering love.”

“Obsession, you mean?” Itaru mumbled, eyes glued to his mobile game.

“You have no room to talk, otaku. Real girls or 2D waifus, either way, it’s disgusting.” Yuki rolled his eyes.

Masumi didn’t respond. He barely registered their chattering over the bright, upbeat music blaring from his headphones. Whatever anyone else thought, he was sure he was the luckiest guy on planet Earth.

_It was only a kiss._

Her gentle hand swept his bangs aside and her lips met his forehead for the briefest moment to check for a fever. No one could find the thermometer.

“You have a cold, Masumi-kun,” she confirmed, her brow creased with worry. “You should get some rest.”

“All I need to feel better is you,” he said without hesitation, his bleary eyes meeting her concerned ones. “You’re better than medicine.”

“Even if you think so, let’s try some anyway, hm?” She gave him that breezy grin, and his heart clenched. Should he feel upset she was brushing him off? Happy she cared for his well-being? In his hazy state, his heart settled for a frustrating mixture of both.

He could never win when it came to her. Before he could complain or elaborate on his feelings, she was handing him tablets and a cold glass of water, insisting that he eat the rice porridge Omi cooked, and, “just this once”, she let him rest his aching head in her lap. Feeling that softness and warmth, soothed by the smell of her shampoo and her fingers lightly tracing his scalp, he fell into the most peaceful sleep imaginable.

_It was only a kiss._

It had been years since they had last met. Since Masumi had left the Mankai company to pursue a degree abroad. Everyone who’d heard of his sad plight had told him that his love for her would shrivel and die with time and distance. They were wrong.

Sure, he met other people. There were times that his devotion faded to the ghost of a memory, stored away in some unoccupied corner of his mind, overshadowed by whatever daily distraction occupied his time.

【❀】

But somehow, he knew it would never fully cease to exist. It was a rogue ember of the passions of his naïve youth, ready to be reignited when he saw her again. When he kissed other girls, when he held them close, there was a hollowness in his chest he could never overcome. A distance they could never bridge.

And then she appeared before him again. Radiant, with moonlight in her hair and nostalgic excitement in her eyes. She ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Masumi-kun, it’s good to see you!”

He was lost for words, this woman was as dangerous as he remembered. As they reminisced over drinks, he silently mused about how easy it would be to regress back to the lovesick puppy he used to be. But he knew she had only seen him as a kid back then, and he couldn’t let that happen again. He wanted to show her that he had matured, to convey that his past self was foolish, but that his past and present admiration for her, those feelings of love, were one and the same.

His bashfulness blinded him to the subtle changes in her treatment of him. The light, casual way she touched his arms, his shoulders. The unrestrained laughter at his silly jokes and the genuine interest in his stories. What he could tell was that, whether from the alcohol or something else, her cheeks were dusted red, and her gaze was dark and enchanting.

When it was time to say goodbye, Masumi didn’t want to let her go. His hand reached for hers, and for a spellbound moment, they were frozen. He blushed, hesitant to act, but then she closed the distance between them, her lips melding with his with such aching sweetness that he thought he might cry. 

_It was only a kiss._

She looked ethereal in white. His personal angel unveiled before their friends and family to the tune of a lilting melody. This was the person who understood him best, who listened to his hopes and dreams, whose happiness he wanted to protect as long as he was alive.

They spoke low their vows of love, their smiles glowing with the promise of eternity, and, as if no one were watching, she kissed his lips and whispered, “I do.”

_scene <3_


	4. Rely on Me (Ikaruga Misumi/Tachibana Izumi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izumi's first experience with fan-mail is soured by a stalker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Protective Misumi  
> Pairing: Misumi/Izumi  
> Genre: Action
> 
> Misumi protecc. He attacc. And after this, he ate an onigiri snacc. Thanks for reading, and shout out to JustMeForever_ for requesting some protective Misumi :)

“Hey, everyone! Mail’s here!”

Matsukawa called into the lounge, hefting the box of letters and gifts left at the theater by Mankai’s growing fanbase. There was the normal mountain for the popular members—Tenma, Masumi, Tasuku—along with a smattering of heartfelt notes for most everyone else. The only thing that was different that day was that, for the first time, there was a letter for Izumi.

“Kantoku-san, Kantoku-san!” Misumi was practically vibrating with excitement as he presented the letter with all the reverence of a gold medal. “You got a fan letter.”

“Me?” Izumi’s eyes shot open. “That’s unusual.”

“A fan letter, huh.” Masumi seemed to appear out of nowhere, peering over Izumi’s shoulder as she carefully broke the seal. “Whatever they wrote, I could write something better—”

“Calm down, Masumi,” Tsumugi placed a placating hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t we be happy for our director? She’s finally getting some appreciation.”

The boy puffed out his cheeks, pouting. “I guess.”

“What does it say?” Misumi rested his chin on the crown of Izumi’s head as he glanced over the elegantly-written script. There were pages and pages of praise, coming from someone who had apparently also been a fan of her father. Reading it aloud made Izumi’s heart swell and her eyes mist over. “I bet your dad would be proud, Kantoku-san,” Misumi smiled softly.

“Thanks, Misumi.” She smiled back, wiping away a stray tear. “He’s been gone for so long and I’ve been doing my best… I think I needed to hear that.”

“Ah, don’t cry, Kantoku-san! You can borrow my triangle.”

Unfortunately, as touched as Izumi had been at the time, that wasn’t the end of it.

The director received a letter the next day, the day after that, and so on. Each morning, like clockwork, they appeared, written in that signature scrawling script. And while the first fan-letter had focused mainly on the contents of Mankai’s recent shows and had praised Izumi’s directing talent, the newer ones quickly became questionable. “If only I could meet you and steal you away, my princess,” one letter lamented. “I love your messy ponytails in the mornings, I want to rake my fingers through your hair,” read another.

Whenever she read these things, Izumi’s stomach crawled with dread. How did this person know what her hair looked like in the morning? They seemed to include more and more intimate details of her life, to the point that she was sure they were nearby. She had decided not to tell the others, since she didn’t want them to worry, but when she left the dorm or the theater, it felt as if someone was always watching from a distance. She had taken to asking whichever troupe member was free at the time to go with her, using any flimsy excuse she could come up with and trying her best to hide her distress.

Unexpectedly, it was Misumi who helped her out the most. He never questioned her motives, and was often available on his treks to part-time jobs, triangle hunts and feeding local cats. “I’m happy to accompany you before my triangle search!” He would say, never failing to lift her mood with his optimistic energy.

【❀】

Having Misumi by her side eased Izumi’s worries greatly. But on one windy afternoon, the director got a call from another troupe leader asking if she could pick up the props the company was borrowing for their upcoming show. Her heart lurched. Everyone was out at the moment, meaning she would have to go alone.

But it would be okay, right?

Izumi clutched her purse in a death-grip, keeping her eyes locked on the road ahead as she speed-walked toward her destination. She was having that feeling again, like she was being watched. Hunted.  _ Stalked. _ The wind was rushing loudly in her ears, but she could swear she heard faint footsteps approaching from behind. She picked up speed. The footsteps followed suit.

“I-Izumi Tachibana!” a stranger’s voice called out.

Izumi broke into a run, rounding the nearest corner and making a break for a busier street, but she had been careless. Her foot caught in an uneven piece of sidewalk and she gracelessly toppled over, pain blooming across her palms and bare knees as they scraped against concrete. The stranger’s ragged breathing and pounding steps continued to grow louder, and Izumi belatedly realized that the main road was further away than she first thought. She couldn’t bring herself to look back at her pursuer, the thought of what could happen next was petrifying.

“Izumi Tachibana,” the stranger repeated, the long shadow he cast looming over her as panic took over.  _ Run, Izumi _ . She pleaded with herself, but her limbs wouldn’t move.  _ Run, dammit! _ “My princess—”

Suddenly, there was a blur of motion, a hard thud, and a grunt of pain. “What are you doing to my Kantoku-san?”

Izumi’s heart leapt. That voice. “M-Misumi…?”

“Agh, you—!”

“Be quiet.” Misumi growled. Izumi had never heard that tone of voice come out of him before.

Hesitant, she turned to face them, jaw dropping at the scene before her. The man who must have been her stalker was sniveling, hanging by the collar of his shirt as Misumi held him up with both hands. There was blood streaming from the man’s nose. “You… you got him.”

“Kan—Izumi. Are you okay?” Misumi’s gaze flicked her prone form, scanning for injuries. Izum opened her mouth to say more, but her throat was dry and scratchy, so she simply nodded.

“Hey, you bastard, this is assault!” Izumi’s stalker wriggled limply in Misumi’s grip, one hand pinching his nose. “I could call the police!”

Misumi’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. We can tell them how you stalked Kantoku-san for a week and chased her down.”

“Y-You have no proof,” the man sputtered.

Misumi finally let him go, dropping one hand into his pocket to pull out his phone. In a flash, he opened his most recent photo album. There were pictures of the man lurking outside the theater, near the dorms, and, most worryingly, under Izumi’s window. “I didn’t find many triangles this week,” Misumi’s voice was low, threatening. “My bet is that you scared them off.”

The man grimaced, his face went beet-red, and his fists began to shake. Izumi tensed up, worried that he would attack them, and Misumi stepped protectively in front of her. But instead of fighting, the stalker fled, disappearing down the alleyway.

As soon as the man was out of sight, all of the emotions Izumi had been holding back were unleashed at once: fear, desperation, relief. She began to sob, reaching out for Misumi’s hand and clinging to him, her entire body trembling. Misumi’s expression softened as he crouched in front of her, the corners of his lips tugging downward at the sight of the bloody scrapes on Izumi’s hands and knees. “Kantoku-san, I’m sorry.” his voice was thick as he drew her into his arms, all gentleness and warmth. As she cried into his chest, Misumi patted her back, soothing her heart and shielding her from the biting wind.

“How did you know?” Izumi asked after her tears had run dry. “That this was going on, I mean.”

“I noticed the letters were starting to make you sad,” he admitted. “And I noticed that guy on my triangle hunts. My cat friends told me to be wary of him.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything,” Izumi’s gaze fell to the ground. “I didn’t want you guys to worry over nothing,”

Misumi pulled away, carefully helping her to her feet before giving an answer. “Of course we would worry. We’re your family. So please, rely on us more in the future. Okay?”

Izumi felt like crying again, out of gratitude, this time. But she held back her tears, entwining her pinky with Misumi’s. “I pinky promise.”

“Good. Can we get onigiri after we clean up? I’m suddenly sooo hungry.”

“Of course,” Izumi beamed. “And, Misumi? Thank you for saving me.”

Misumi blushed, giving their pinkies a little squeeze. “Any time, my triangular Kantoku-san.”

_ scene <3 _


	5. Spring Fever (Hyoudou Juza/Everyone}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azuma's mischief turn's Juza's day into a lust-addled fever dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Spicy/Outdoors  
> Starring: Juza  
> Genre: Comedy
> 
> Poor, pure Juza.

It had all started innocently enough. Juza had noticed Azuma’s brand new bag of supplements on the counter. _ What are those for, skincare? Growing long hair? _ Juza was tempted to snoop, but there was no way he was gonna ask outright. He leaned in close to read the label--

“I see you’re curious.” Juza leaped away at the deep purr of Azuma’s voice in his ear. The older man just grinned like a cat, basking in his younger friend’s embarrassment. 

“N-Not really,” Juza huffed, blushing.

“They’re insurance,” Azuma clarified. “Tomorrow is the first day of spring, you see.”

Juza’s eyebrow twitched. “Why does that matter?”

“Spring Fever, of course. A young man of your age, you must have heard about it?” Juza shook his head. Azuma’s laugh was like the plucking of harp-strings. “Spring Fever, Ju-chan, is a beautiful time where the desires of the young awaken.”

_ Desires… of the young?  _ Juza gulped. He didn’t like where this was going. “You take these to…”

“To keep dirty thoughts at bay, of course. A shame you didn’t buy any, boys your age are particularly at risk. Look out for the biggest sign.”

“And that is?”

“Seeing everything, even the mundane, in a… shall we say, amorous light.” 

Juza turned on his heel. “Tch. You’re messin’ with me. I’ve never cared about that stuff.”

“Oh, Ju-chan,” Azuma pouted, swishing his silky hair over his shoulder. “I hope you’re right.”

~~

Juza had written it off as Azuma’s normal teasing. That is, until he caught sight of Settsu the next day. Normally, Juza did his best to avoid any contact with the guy, even eye-contact. But now, he couldn’t look away. 

Specifically, from his lips. 

As he raised a glass of water to those plump, firm lips, a stray droplet cascading from the corner of his mouth, adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp, Juza felt an unfamiliar throb and needed to excuse himself to take a cold shower.

The icy water helped to clear his head some, but when Juza came out, he spotted Izumi in the kitchen making her famous curry-omelette, and he felt hot all over again. Her form seemed to glow in the morning sun, all shining hair and soft curves. It was warm enough to start wearing lighter clothes, and Juza’s eyes fell on her delicate collarbones and graceful neck as she turned to greet him. They lingered on her tiny wrists as she flipped the eggs, handed him his plate. He felt the urge to pin them against the wall, along with that persistent ache at his core.

“Fuck this,” Juza swore under his breath, trying to think of Homare’s stupidest haikus, Yuki’s insults, Sakyo’s lectures-- anything else as he fled outside seeking solitude.

“Ah, Juza!” Panic washed over the young man as Tasuku came into view, a bundle of chopped wood tucked under his veiny arm. “Would you mind helping me carry the rest of this wood--?”

【❀】

“D-Don’t talk about wood!” Juza squeaked, shielding his eyes from the Winter Troupe’s muscliest member. He turned on his heel and broke into a sprint down Valudo Way, tearing past confused bystanders and disrupting at least two street-acts. He was considering throwing himself into the fountain when he was yanked to a stop by his collar.

“Hey, kid.” Sakyo’s menacing voice made Juza’s blood run cold. He turned slowly turned his head to see that the yakuza’s expression matched his tone. But Juza’s lust-addled brain wasn’t concentrating on that, it was focusing on Sakyo’s beauty marks. They were enchanting, mesmerizing. There was a deeply repressed part of Juza that wanted to lick them like stray drops of chocolate sauce.

No! NO! What kind of lewd nonsense was this? Juza made himself as small as his build would allow, his breathing coming shallow, erratic.

Sakyo, noticing how out-of-sorts his kouhai was, released his grip on Juza’s collar and patted him roughly on the head before addressing him again, eyes cast to the ground to allow him to regain his composure. “What’s eating you? Something happen with Settsu again?”

Juza swallowed thickly. “N-Not exactly,” he muttered. “It’s… Spring Fever.”

Sakyo gave him a perplexed look. “Excuse me?”

Juza’s eyes began to water, his face red with embarrassment and shame. “Azuma-san told me about it, and I didn’t buy any vitamins, so everything has been so weird today, and I just--”

“Hold on, you’re beginning to sound like Muku.” Sakyo’s voice was firm, but kind. “You say Azuma told you about this… Spring Sickness? Fever? Whatever-the-hell?”

Juza nodded solemnly.

Sakyo rolled his eyes. “That sly bastard, messin’ with innocent kids. Juza-kun, there’s no such thing as ‘Spring Fever’. Azuma was screwin’ with you for his own enjoyment.”

“Then, why do I find everyone in the Mankai Company so enchanting?” Juza blurted, his face burning.

Sakyo’s brows shot up. ‘Enchanting’? What was this kid, a maiden? He sighed. “Geez. I ain’t your dad, Kid. It’s not my job to explain the birds and the bees. People your age are always a tornado of hormones. Just try to relax, okay?”

Sakyo’s words heavy on his mind, Juza headed back home. He felt like all of his life force had been drained in one chaotic morning. He slept soundly for three days and nights, and when he awoke, he felt fresh, renewed, enlightened. He was still young, he figured. Who needed spicy thoughts when there were so many sweet desserts to enjoy in this life?


	6. Sincerely (Nanao Taichi/Fan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taichi wonders the identity of his letter-writing fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Taichi/Fan-letters  
> Pairing: Taichi/Fan  
> Genre: Drama
> 
> Author's Note: Thank you to ransupyon for requesting some Taichi feels! I appreciate your patience, this story did not come easy for me, but I hope the end result is worth it :)

_My Dearest Taichi,_

_I hope this letter finds you well._

“My name’s Yoshida. Yoshida Chiaki.”

The transfer student kept her head bowed during her introduction to the class, lips pressed into a line, eyes downcast. Taichi didn't think much of it at the time, even when the teacher sat her next to him.

He remembered what it was like to be a newbie, an unknown. The bottom of the hierarchy until proven otherwise. So he gave her his warmest smile and showed her around, making goofy jokes and pointing out the worst spots to skip class (one time, he had tried, unsuccessfully, to hide in the vending machine) until she was laughing back.

“You’re an actor?” she asked him, sipping her strawberry milk and staring at his profile.

“I want to be.” He put a hand on his chin. “Have you ever felt small, Chiaki? Like maybe you’ll never catch up to the others?” He looked into her eyes, his own brimming with conviction. “I want to overcome that feeling. Then, I will realize my full potential.”

“Your full potential, huh?”

_You might not remember me, but you are someone I could never forget._

Though they had spent the entire afternoon together, the next morning, Chiaki didn’t return. There was chatter around school about her whereabouts, the occasional rumor, but when the teacher addressed it, she merely cited “personal reasons” and left it at that. Within the month, the memory of Yoshida Chiaki disappeared like wind-scattered blossoms.

_You told me your dreams shone brighter than the sun, that there were people you wanted to impress. I’ve never felt that way, myself. I couldn’t help but envy your conviction, and I couldn’t suppress my curiosity about what inspired you._

“Taichi, mail.” Omi handed him the letter, sealed with a panda sticker and written on strawberry stationery.

“Whoa, is this from a girl?!” Taichi’s eyebrows shot up, and he could barely contain his excitement as he carefully unfolded it, skimming to the bottom to look for a signature. His shoulders sagged. “There’s no name.”

“Seems you have a secret admirer, Taichi.” Tenma smirked.

“Way to go, man,” Banri slapped him on the back.

_When I asked, one of our classmates told me you were a part of the Mankai Company. I wanted to see the world through your eyes, and I decided the best way was to experience one of your plays for myself. But the leaves had yet to change, so in the heat of summer, I made a plan._

【❀】 

“I wonder which audience member she was?” Taichi sat on the edge of the stage, his gaze falling from the rows of vacant seats to the single purple pansy and the handwritten note that had been left for him by the stage door. “We met lots of people after the show, maybe she was one of them.”

“No. If you met her, you’d know!” Muku slammed his fist on the stage in an unusually bold gesture to emphasize his disagreement. “Something like that is fate, Taichi-san. You’d be able to sense it if she was nearby.”

“I think you’re confusing love for ESP, Muku.” Banri swung his legs and wrinkled his brow. “Either way, it seems like this fan is really affecting you. I’ve never seen you so fired up.”

“She is.” Taichi gazed fondly at the cute, familiar stationery. “I don’t really know how to explain it, but hearing from her every month, having her cheer me on… It’s helped me so much. I don’t know her name, but I feel like she understands my dreams, and believes they can come true.”

“Shoujo! Romance!” Muku squealed, nearly fangirling himself off the edge. Luckily, Banri steadied him.

“Instead of spouting all that to us, why don’t you try writing her back?” he suggested. “Tell her ‘thanks’.”

Taichi shook his head and sighed. “There’s never an address, her letters are delivered by hand.”

Banri and Muku exchanged a look, and replied in unison, “Then, catch her in the act!”

_Sadly, when the time came, I couldn’t catch you in-person. The doctors decided I was too weak to leave the hospital, and all I could do was fight back my sorrow and scribble down my well-wishes. My dad delivered them in my place, but that isn’t enough. I know I’m running out of time, and I don’t want to leave this world without seeing you shine for myself._

“Good work tonight, Nanao. This was your best performance yet.” At Sakyo’s words, the memory of applause, the exhilaration of a standing ovation, Taichi’s heart overflowed with joy.

“Yep, I think you’re least annoying onstage.” Yuki mused as he rifled through the costume rack.

The celebratory banter was interrupted by a slam as the dressing-room door hit the wall. At the sight of a sticken Izumi, in such a hurry that she hadn’t even knocked, the temperature in the room seemed to plummet. “Sakyo-san,” she called in a strained tone. “Come with me, please.”

Sakyo’s expression turned deadly serious, and the two were about to make a swift exit when the Director seemed to remember something. “Ah, Taichi-kun.” She tried to force a smile, but it came out more like a grimace. “This is for you.” 

Izumi was gone before Taichi could even register that she’d handed him an envelope. And before he could take a look, Banri gave voice to the question that hung in the air. “What was that?”

“I think I know.” Juza’s low voice cut through the silence, and every eye turned to his towering form, leaning heavily on the doorframe. “I heard Kantoku-san and Furuichi-san talking as they left, and there was some commotion in the lobby.”

“Well, don’t keep us waiting, idiot.” Banri snapped. “Tell us what’s going on.”

A scowl flashed over Juza’s face, but he continued anyway. “I’m not sure if this is true, but apparently a girl collapsed in the lobby, so they’re calling an ambulance.”

“What, you mean like an old lady?” Yuki asked.

Juza shook his head. “Someone around our age, actually. I guess she was sick, she was wearing a hospital gown under her coat.”

Taichi’s stomach sank. His hands began to tremble, and the others’ conversation blurred as he lifted the crinkled paper. It looked like someone had been clutching it for dear life. Taichi’s eyes fell to the familiar handwriting, and he noticed immediately that this time, there was a name scrawled in the top left corner.

“Yoshida Chiaki.”

_That’s why I’m sneaking out. I don’t know if I’ll have the nerve to talk to you for real, so I’m writing everything down, like always. I’ve been cooped up for so long, Taichi. I haven’t had much choice in my life, and I’ve never been much of a dreamer, but you encouraged me to think bigger, to decide on a dream. It’s not as grand as becoming a famous actor, but I’ll tell you about it anyway. Here goes._

“You’re Nanao Taichi?”

The man’s voice brought Taichi back from the brink of exhaustion. He had been waiting for hours, unable to see Chiaki because she had been rushed to surgery. His only companions were the words she had written, sentiments that had managed to reach him, even after she collapsed. He read them over and over until his vision swam and his head pounded. 

“Y-Yes, sir!” He sat up straight, rubbing his eyes. “And you are--?”

“Chiaki’s father.” came the solemn answer.

“Yoshida Chiaki’s--? Is she okay?” Taichi held his breath and balled his fists, nails sinking into his palms.

There was a strained silence, and with each passing second, another tendril of dread clawed at Taichi’s chest. Yoshida-san’s tear-filled eyes fell to the ground, a hand shooting up to his mouth to muffle a sob. “I… I’m sorry.” he managed. “They couldn’t save her.”

 _Then… I was too late._ Taichi wept.

_My dream is to be remembered. To have a place in someone’s heart._

“Taichi?” Omi’s knock on their door was hesitant. “Dinner’s ready.”

Taichi couldn’t find the energy to respond. He had never lost someone close to him before, and the despair was crushing. He burrowed deeper into his blankets, Chiaki’s letter snug under his pillow.

When would he stop feeling this way?

_You’ve already done so much for me, Tachi-kun, but can I ask you for one more favor? Please, every once in awhile, think of me. Remember that I believe in you, and each time I cross your mind, my dream will come true._

He visited her for the first time once the trees shed the last of their leaves. Autumn was ending, and Taichi worried that the bouquet of pansies he’d brought for her would be ripped apart by the harsh wind. Even so, he laid them across the freshly-scrubbed stone, lit some incense, and took a deep breath as the smoke billowed overhead. 

It was time to answer her letter.

“H-Hi again, Chiaki.” He began, digging his hands deeper into his pockets. “Maybe it’s too informal to use your first name, but I can’t help but think of you as a friend.

“First, I want to thank you. Each of your letters felt like a bit of sunlight in my hands. They warmed me up on windy days like this, days when I lost faith in myself, when I felt worthless. I was stupid. I never figured out it was you sending those letters, never looked into where you had gone even though I wondered. I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry I never saw your face again, told you with my own voice how grateful I am that you chose to support me.” 

With tears stinging in his eyes and emotion welling in his chest, Taichi continued. “The favor you asked of me… it’s way too small.” He let out a laugh. “You made it seem like such a big deal, but you deserve so much more than my stupid thoughts. Still, I promise I’ll think of you. Every strawberry I eat, every autumn leaf and bright sky will remind me. Cross my heart.”

As his words faded into the chilly air, the wind began to stir the fallen leaves surrounding the shrine. A particularly strong gust ruffled Taichi’s hair and sent a cascade of color spiraling into the distance. And there she was. In nature’s beautiful dance. Taichi smiled.

_Thank you for everything. Goodbye._

_Sincerely,_

_Yoshida Chiaki_

_scene <3 _


	7. Suddenly, Tsumu (Tsumugi x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsumugi x Reader movie date requested by Tsum-uwu-gi :)
> 
> If you haven't seen Little Shop of Horrors, I would definitely recommend it (unless you're particularly squeamish or don't like musicals, haha). If you want to listen to the song referenced in this fic, "Suddenly, Seymour", here is [ my favorite version ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jiwz6CjjVcs).

“Tsumu-kun! Tsumu-kun!”

You can’t help but grin from ear to ear as you spot him at the other end of the crosswalk, and your pose of nervous anticipation transforms into one of giddy excitement. It doesn’t matter that the wind has been lashing at your floral dress, making you shiver, or that the other pedestrians are staring wide-eyed at the loud girl over-dramatically hailing her companion, today is monumental.

“Y/n-chan!” He’s more subdued than you, but Tsumugi’s happiness is apparent, too, his smile is as dazzling as you remember. You haven’t seen each other in years, but time and distance melt away as he comes to a stop before you. “That’s a cute dress,” he says, not seeming to notice how his little remark could make you melt into the sidewalk.

“Your outfit, it’s also good,” you reply, trying to keep your awkwardness at bay. “Oh, but your collar,” you reach for the offending flap of fabric, whipped out of place on his commute, and smooth it down. Tsumugi stares back at you, the cool blue of his eyes contrasting with the hint of pink gracing his cheeks.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. Then, as if coming out of a trance, he breaks away from your close proximity and clears his throat. “So, Esteemed Movie Expert, you said there’s one playing today that would help with my comedic acting?”

“Yup,” you gesture toward the theater. “It’s a classic dark comedy that was also adapted into a Broadway musical, so it translates well to the stage. Also, I think you’ll be interested in the subject matter.”

You hand him his ticket, and Tsumugi raises his eyebrows. “Huh. I’ve never heard of  _ Little Shop of Horrors _ . Is it a horror-comedy, then?”

You shoot him a wink. “You’ll see.”

The theater is near-deserted as you find your seats, nestling against the soft velvet and positioning your snacks on the armrest for optimal sharing. You glance over at Tsumugi’s face in profile, glowing in the light of the preview trailers. One thought has been repeating itself in your brain since he contacted you a few weeks back.  _ Is this a date? _

【 ❀ 】

You had the biggest crush on him back at university, but you were sure it was unrequited. He had always been a little closed-off. Polite, compassionate, but out of reach. When you heard he had become an actor, you were shocked, but when you saw him perform, everything made sense. The Tsumugi you knew was only a shell of the person you saw on stage—someone full of passion, someone captivating. You fell in love all over again.

On the other hand, seeing him shine so brightly hurt the selfish part of you that wished you could have known sooner, that you could have supported his dreams back then instead of hopelessly pining for an idealized image. He must have thought you were so shallow, being drawn to his princely demeanor without really understanding his struggles. You were a mere audience apart, but you weren’t brave enough to face him back then, even to wish him well.

That’s why you were so surprised that he asked you out of the blue for movie recommendations. You’d been texting constantly ever since, filling each other in on your lives, hardships and aspirations, but you fully expected him to be too busy to meet. So what does this unlikely outing mean for your relationship?

“Popcorn?” You jump at Tsumugi’s voice in your ear, and he lets out a chuckle as he holds out a piece. Instinctually, you open your mouth, realizing too late that he meant to hand it to you, and while he looks a bit shocked at first, Tsumugi pops it into your mouth, eyes twinkling.

Your whole face goes red as the sweetness of caramel blooms on your tongue. Pouting cutely, you point at the screen, silently reminding him to pay attention.

The movie began, and just as you had hoped, Tsumugi gets that cute wrinkle in his brow when Seymour names his little plant, Audrey II. And, just as you expected, his eyes go wide when that tiny, cute plant makes a habit of feeding on human blood and grows into a smooth-talking, ravenous monster.

“This is the worst-case scenario for a gardener, huh, Tsumu?” You jab him playfully on the arm, and he covers his mouth to stifle a laugh.

“I see why you picked this. Cheeky.” He pauses. “Hey,” without warning, he takes your hand in his own, concern etched into his features. “Your hand is freezing, are you cold?”

“Um, a little,” you admit. Gently, he massages warmth back into your fingers, but even when your hands are the same temperature, he doesn’t let go. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears _. Is this happening right now? _

Hands entwined, the two of you watch in silence for awhile, munching on your food and muttering whispered commentary back and forth. You can’t help but be thankful for the empty theater. Finally, you reach the scene where Audrey and Seymour sing their big love ballad. “This is my favorite part,” you murmur giddily. “It’s so romantic.”

_ ~Suddenly, Seymour is standing beside me/ He don’t give me orders, he don’t condescend~ _

As the music swells, you silently mouth the words to Tsumugi, gesturing emphatically, and he beams, his eyes fixed on you.

_ ~Suddenly, Seymour is here to provide me/ With sweet understanding~ _

You jokingly take his hands in your own as the song crescendos and the on-screen couple embraces, but suddenly, Tsumugi is drawing you close and planting a very real, soft kiss on your lips. His action stuns you both, and he pulls back a bit at the awed look on your face. “I’m sorry, was that wrong? I-I should have at least asked first—,” His glances away.

“N-No,” you cup his face in your hands, blushing. Your heart is overflowing with warmth. “Let’s do that again.”

_ scene <3 _

**Author's Note:**

> ~【❀】 indicates the initial 20-minutes have passed~
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
